Crossroads: (Yuri Katsuki X Viktor Nikiforov)
by Akasha1908
Summary: This fanfic picks up at the beginning of Yuri on Ice, episode 12. Yuri has just told Viktor that he plans to retire after the Grand Prix final. In the anime, this particular scene ends with Viktor saying: "How can you tell me to return to the ice while saying you're retiring?" I've written my interpretation of the events that follow...
1. Chapter 1 - Decisions

_"How can you tell me to return to the ice while saying you're retiring?"_

Yuri stared at Viktor, his mind still trying to process the fact that the tears sliding down the other's cheeks were not only real, but from a place of true emotion. Until that moment, Yuri had never felt like he and Viktor were truly connected. At least not on any sort of emotional level. They were both passionate about their sport, and the teacher was no doubt eager to see his student triumph. But in those moments of excitement and success, Yuri couldn't help but feel like they were celebrating parallel to each other, rather than sharing the joy.

For that reason alone, Yuri hesitated in _everything_ when it came to Viktor. The kiss after his performance at The Cup of China, the exchanging of rings in Barcelona… If all of these bits and pieces were strung together, using each stolen moment to create one collective portrait, what would it show? Admiration… Friendship… _Love_? Would there even be picture at all, or would it simply be a reflection of Yuri's wishful thinking?

"I can't do this anymore," Yuri replied, his soft laughter hollow and empty. "I keep thinking this is a dream. I'm going to wake up one day and you'll be gone. I'll be alone again and everything I've experienced until now will be nothing more than an illusion. I finally know what love is," he continued, smiling as he tried to ignore the catch in his voice, "but I also know what it's like to live without it. I want to remember you and I just like this. For me, that's enough. For a moment in time, you were mine, but now… now it's time to give you back to the world."

"Don't," Viktor hissed, his tone still angry despite the tears brimming in his eyes. "You don't get to do that."

"Do what?" Yuri asked, frowning in confusion.

Viktor closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. The pause couldn't have been for more than a few seconds, but for Yuri it felt like an eternity. When those blue eyes opened again, there was no mercy or kindness in them.

"You want to retire? Fine. But don't make this decision about _me_. Ask me to stay, and I will. Tell me go, and I'll leave. But don't use _me_ as your justification for quitting. I refuse to be your excuse."

Yuri's frown remained in place, the bed frame creaking as he shifted uneasily on the mattress. Viktor's words were… unexpected. Then again, so were the male's anger and tears. Nothing about this conversation was going the way Yuri had anticipated, and the added sting of Viktor's words had him wondering if there was any truth to them. Was he using Viktor as his excuse to give up figure skating? Retiring had seemed like the next logical step, hadn't it?

"Oh, Yuri," Viktor said, his familiar smile shadowed by muted frustration. "You still don't see it, do you?"

The creases in Yuri's brow deepened, his expression twisting with a sort of silent panic. "What?" he asked, his voice raising an octave. "What don't I see?"

Viktor's smile faltered ever so slightly. If Yuri hadn't been studying his face so intently, he might have missed the subtle change. It was such a small thing, but it was enough to make Yuri's heart skip a full beat.

"Viktor, I—"

Yuri's words were stolen right from his lips, the fleeting kiss rashly given and unexpectedly received. In almost the same moment, the kiss was broken, leaving Yuri both confused and breathless. Viktor pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes; the warmth of his breath like fire against Yuri's flushed cheeks. Brief as it was, there was an edge of desperation to the kiss that made their first one seem like an innocent peck on the cheek.

"I-I… Y-you…" Yuri's mouth snapped shut, his inability to form a coherent sentence adding a hint of genuine humor to Viktor's smile.

The look in that cool blue gaze was enough to make Yuri's heart flutter and skip, sputtering through several beats like an engine trying to start. All he could hear was the blood rushing past his ears, his senses narrowing until every corner of his mind was filled with Viktor… 'It's not fair.' That was Yuri's first thought, the words holding a childish ring to them as they echoed through his head. For one human being to be so utterly perfect… So much so that it psychically hurt to look at them... Where was the fairness in that? Yuri tried to break the spell Viktor had so effortlessly cast, wanting to avert his gaze but unable to turn away. The Russian's impossibly blue eyes glittered in the soft glow of the lamps, their swirling depths seeming to beckon Yuri closer. The longer he stared into them, the deeper he was pulled into the bottomless ocean of blue. He leaned forward involuntary, gasping softly as the sensation of falling rippled through him.

Yuri jerked away, sucking in a startled breath. He hurriedly fixed his glasses, pushing them back up the bridge of his nose with a shaky hand. The unconscious movement was nothing more than an excuse to put some distance between them. He felt like he was suffocating, each breath becoming a little more difficult to take. Viktor, however, refused to let Yuri escape so easily.

"I keep waiting for you to figure it out," Viktor said, reaching out and removing Yuri's glasses. As he turned to set them down, the strands of his silver fell over his eyes, making it impossible to read them.

"Figure out what?" Yuri asked anxiously.

"That it doesn't have to be one or the other. You see only one option. I see endless possibilities."

Yuri shook his head, not quite following Viktor's meaning. "If this is about my retiring, I told you, I…"

Viktor shoved Yuri back onto the mattress, the sudden rush of air sending his dark locks fluttering around his face. The Russian was on his feet now, his lustful gaze locked squarely on Yuri.

"V-Viktor?" Yuri stammered, his voice barely above a whisper as he watched the Russian untie the robe he wore. "Wh-what… what are you doing?"

"I'm going to open your eyes," he answered, letting the soft white fabric slide down his body and to the floor.

Yuri lifted up on his elbows, the heel of his foot pushing against the edge the mattress as he tried to scoot away. Viktor grabbed his ankle tightly, his vicelike grip firm yet gentle at the same time.

"Stop running, Yuri. Stop running and take what you want. Whether it's the gold medal tomorrow, another year doing what you so _obviously_ love, or just… me."

Yuri shook his head vigorously, the cacophony of voices in his head screaming all at once. They had veered left at some point, the conversation heading down a path Yuri wasn't prepared to travel down.

"V-Viktor, w-we can't!" Yuri gasped, clenching his teeth to stop the yelp that almost burst from his lips as Viktor yanked off his pants. "I-I have to skate tomorrow," he pleaded in a trembling voice.

"I know," Viktor replied solemnly, moving to straddle Yuri's waist. "I've been waiting for the right moment to take you, but between the practices and performances, there was never a right time. It's only now that I realize it should be _you_ claiming _me_."

Viktor slipped two fingers into his mouth, his gaze never leaving Yuri's face as he prepared his body…

* * *

Yuri was a virgin in every sense of the word, his doe-eyed gaze wide with terror and laced with uncertainty. If the circumstances had been different, Viktor would have laughed, probably teased Yuri a bit before stealing a kiss that would ignite the other's cheeks. But this… this wasn't the time to be playful or feign ignorance to the gravity of this moment.

Viktor couldn't help but think that every second he'd shared with Yuri; every triumphant and every defeat, had inevitably led to this one, single moment. Perhaps he'd known this was going to happen all along, because of all the things to feel in a moment such as this, Viktor hadn't anticipated his overwhelming sense of relief. There'd been a wall between them until now, and the Russian was determined to bring it tumbling to the ground…

Ever since they'd arrived in Barcelona, perhaps even before then, Viktor had been contemplating his return to the ice. As sensitive and self-critical as Yuri could be, seeing him grow not only as a skater, but as a person, brought about a different sort of passion. Viktor had always sought to surprise his audience and fans, but during his brief time with Yuri, he'd learned the importance of surprising himself. At a time when his heart was torn between coaching and his career, his newfound relationship with Yuri had provided an anchor to which Viktor could hold onto.

 _"_ _After the finals, let's end this…"_

The words echoed mercilessly in Viktor's head, threatening to bring about another wave of angry tears. It felt good to be needed by Yuri. In fact, Viktor had found a kind of satisfaction he couldn't quite put into words. He was used to the adoration and worship of his fans, but what he'd found with Yuri eclipsed even that. And now his pupil was just going to… walk away?

 _Viktor wouldn't allow it…_

The decision wasn't his to make. And with his own thoughts shadowed by doubt and uncertainty, Viktor was in no position to tell Yuri what he should and shouldn't do. But at the same time, how could he allow them to part ways without so much as a word of protest? True, Viktor didn't have all the answers, nor could he say for certain what the future held for either of them. But what he did know, what he'd learned from his time at Yuri's side, was that he wanted to make the decision together rather than apart.

Viktor held his breath, positioning Yuri's length at his entrance. For someone so eager to stop only moments ago, there was no denying how aroused the younger male was. The moment Viktor had removed his robe, he'd noticed Yuri's arousal tenting the front of his pants.

"V-Viktor…"

Yuri said his name like a prayer, the throaty whisper sending a sliver of pleasure coiling down Viktor's spine. How long had it been since he'd given himself to another? Usually it was the Russian doing the taking, but, when it came to Yuri, Viktor found that things like positions and labels didn't matter. Only love did…

Viktor inhaled deeply, breathing out slowly as he forced his body to relax and allow Yuri's length to slide inside him. The build of pressure… the hiss of pain… Through it all, Viktor kept his eyes on Yuri.

"I'm hurting you," Yuri whispered, lifting himself up off the bed. He moved to awkwardly hold Viktor, his brow furrowed with worry and his innocent gaze filled with concern.

Viktor wrapped his arms around Yuri's shoulders, hiding his face in the crook of the other's neck as he thrust his hips downward. An involuntary cry of pain tore from Viktor's throat, the suddenness of being filled so completely making every muscle in his body tense at once.

"Vik—"

"Don't move!" Viktor bit out, his hold tightening around Yuri. "I just… I need a minute."

Viktor took several calming breaths, coaxing his body into relaxing once more. He pulled back, cupping Yuri's cheeks as he pressed his forehead to the other's brow.

"I feel like I'm the virgin here," Viktor chuckled softly, wincing at the feel of Yuri's cock twitching inside him. "I didn't expect you to be quite so large," he added, smiling when Yuri's cheeks warmed against the palms of his hands.

"Viktor, please… D-don't force yourself," Yuri said, his voice tight and thready.

"Shall I stop then?" Viktor asked, pressing a chaste kiss to Yuri's lips before moving as if to get up.

Yuri's hand practically flew to Viktor's narrow hip, the force of this grip bringing Viktor to an abrupt halt. Dark brown eyes stared up at the Russian, the shimmering depths void of the uncertainty that so often left Yuri second-guessing himself. Viktor's heart swelled, threatening to burst in his chest.

This time it was Yuri who made the first move, his lips claiming Viktor's in a kiss so sudden and passionate, it brought with it a flutter of fear and excitement. Viktor thread his delicate fingers through Yuri's thick locks, his hip now moving of their own accord. It took several faltering starts to find their perfect rhythm, but soon their bodies were moving in as if they were one…

* * *

Yuri couldn't stop… His mind was a jumble of incoherent thoughts, and the only word he could clearly make out was ' _Viktor_.' Never in his life had he felt anything so incredible. Had he known such pleasure existed, he might not have waited so long to experience it. But then again this was Viktor Nikiforov, the man Yuri had idolized for the better part of his life. He couldn't imagine doing this with anyone except the silver-haired beauty.

Still, as enlightening as this moment was, it was obvious Viktor was the more experienced of the two. Yuri could hardly catch his breath, every rock and roll of the Russian's hips snatching the air clean from his lungs. He felt heavy and dizzy, his skin flushed and hot to the touch. And as he struggled from one breath to the next, Yuri couldn't help but feel like he was drowning in the passion of their love-making.

"Yuri…" Viktor moaned, his body arching and his head falling backwards. "So… deep."

Yuri's vision blurred, one hand moving to grip the sheets while the other held onto Viktor's delicate hips for dear life. The Russian was lost in his own pleasure now, his knees bent so he could bounce up and down on Yuri's thick length. It was too much… too fast… Yuri wanted the exquisite torture to end, but at the same time he wanted it to last forever. He needed to slow things down and take control; otherwise, he'd be the only one leaving this room satisfied.

It was awkward and poorly executed, but Yuri managed to yank Viktor forward and into his arms, using the momentum of their bodies to roll them over. A burst of laughter rushed from Viktor's lips as his back hit the sheets, the strands of his silver bangs obscuring the amusement in his sapphire eyes.

"Such boldness," Viktor said, his words laced with that familiar undertone of seduction. "Is this your Eros?" he asked in a whisper, reaching up to wrap his arms around Yuri's neck. "Will you finally show me the _truth_ of it?"

Viktor's words held the slightest hint of mockery, bringing with it the thought of pork cutlet bowls. Oddly enough, the humorous moment offered a much needed distraction, giving Yuri time to catch his breath and refocus. He let himself be pulled downward, his lips hovering above Viktor's in the promise of a kiss as he pulled out slowly. But before their lips touched, Yuri thrust his hips forward, slamming into Viktor with a force that startled them both.

Viktor's smile melted from his face, his body seeming to curl around Yuri's in silent encouragement. The sudden change in his expression, the soft whimper that filled the air between them… Yuri did indeed feel bold. He didn't have Viktor's captivating charm, nor could he work his hips quite so enticingly, but he found that if he moved at a certain pace; hitting a certain spot, the Russian was simply incapable of portraying that carefree, nonchalant attitude. This time it was Yuri who smiled, his surge of confidence reinvigorating him. He'd finally found his control. Viktor's allure, albeit still enthralling as ever, was no match for Yuri's stamina.

"Open your eyes," Yuri murmured, wanting to drown in those gorgeous blues once more. He wanted to be immersed in the intensity of that sparkling gaze; feel its elusive pull in hopes of making the connection with Viktor he so desperately desired. When the Russian refused to obey, Yuri cupped the other's face, brushing his thumb across the curve of the male's cheekbone. "Open your eyes," he repeated, his voice far more commanding than he intended it to be.

Viktor's eyes fluttered open, the blue orbs obscured by a veil of tears. Yuri's heart nearly leapt from his chest, his every thrust from that point on a display of how much he adored the Russian; how grateful he was to have him in his life. But the way Viktor stared up at him, his lust mixed with sadness… Yuri was struck with the realization that this would be his first and last night with his beloved Viktor…

Yuri couldn't bear to see the other's face; not now, not when his own heartache was reflected in those crystal clear blue eyes… Without so much as a warning, Yuri pulled out of Viktor. He flipped the Russian onto his stomach then slammed back into him with a kind of frustration that bordered on anger. It was obvious Viktor hadn't expected the sudden change in position, and even though Yuri was now pounding into him mercilessly, the Russian gave not a single word of protest. Within minutes, Yuri reached his limit, his anger a catalyst for his lust. He came hard and fast, tears in his eyes as he emptied his seed for the first time inside another…

* * *

Viktor cried silent tears, his mind and body at odds with what they were feeling. He was riding the line between pleasure and pain, and it took everything he had not to scream in delicious agony. Clinging to the sheets with both hands, Viktor clenched his teeth, burying his face in the mattress to muffle his involuntary sobs.

"Viktor, I-I… I…!"

Viktor felt the exact moment Yuri came, the flood of cum filling him to the brim and triggering his own orgasm. Yuri held Viktor's hips in place, the Russian's name falling from his lips like a psalm of praise…

Viktor collapsed on the bed, Yuri following suit. Neither moved nor spoke, each fighting to calm their racing hearts. To Viktor's credit, he managed not to whimper when Yuri's cock finally slid out of his ravaged hole. The sudden loss of the fullness left Viktor feeling empty and alone in more ways than one.

"Viktor?" Yuri whispered, his quiet voice breaking the silence. "I… I'm sorry."

Viktor closed his eyes, fighting the tears that threatened to fall again. They'd made love for the first time, and all Yuri could say was, _I'm sorry_? Viktor clenched his teeth, wondering if the fool lying beside him would ever understand how hopelessly in love with him he was. Taking a deep breath, Viktor pasted a smile on his face and forced his body up and off the bed. His back ached and every muscle in his body was screaming for him to lay back down, but he managed to keep both feet firmly on the ground.

"We should get ready for bed," Viktor said, trying his best to sound normal. "We have an early morning."

Yuri returned Viktor's smile, but he made no move to hide his sadness. "Spoken like a true coach," he joked, slowly sitting up on the bed.

For half a second, Viktor's smile was genuine. He bent down, picking up his discarded robe from the floor. He felt more awkward that usual, which in and of itself was surprising. It was hard to maintain his natural grace and poise when Yuri's cum was currently leaking from his ass and sliding down the inside of his thigh.

"Would you… like to shower with me?" Yuri asked nervously, gathering his pants off the floor as well.

Viktor laughed softly, wondering if the man standing before him was the same one who'd nearly fucked him into the mattress.

"No," Viktor replied, forcing his smile to remain in place, "you go ahead. I'll call for some fresh sheets so the bed's ready when you get out."

Yuri nodded, looking as he wanted to say something else, but deciding against it. He walked past Viktor, disappearing behind the bathroom door.

Viktor all but collapsed back onto the bed, barely able to drag himself across the mattress to the phone on the nightstand. He made the call to the hotel front desk, requesting a fresh set of sheets be brought up to the room. The woman on the other end promised to have someone there in ten minutes. Viktor breathed a sigh of relief, curling up on the mattress and hugging his robe to his chest. Provided Yuri took his time in the shower, that left Viktor nine solid minutes to get a good cry in…

 ** _The Next Morning…_**

Yuri woke up with a start, the light from the open window pouring into the room. His body felt surprisingly relaxed and rested, and after a good stretch, he suddenly remembered why…

"Viktor?" Yuri called out, frowning when there was no answer.

Scooting off the bed, Yuri knocked on the bathroom door, pushing it open when there was no response. _Empty_ … Yuri set about brushing his teeth and hair before getting ready for the day's event. Once he was dressed and his gym bag packed, he turned off all the room lights then headed to the elevator. He had no clue where Viktor was, but when the elevator door opened into the lobby, the first thing Yuri saw was his coach's slender frame leaning against one the Romanesque pillars.

Yuri tripped out of the elevator, his clumsiness drawing the attention of several stares, including Viktor's. There was a second of hesitation before the faint smile broke across the Russian's face.

"Good morning, Yuri," Viktor said, his tone noticeably subdued. "Are you ready to head over?"

Yuri nodded, offering a quiet greeting in response. Neither mentioned the previous night's events, and considering the contemplative mood they were both in, that particular conversation wouldn't be happening any time soon; if ever. Promises had been made before bed, and with the rising of the sun, their vow was the only thing that carried over into the light of this new day. They would each make their own decision about what to do next after the free skate. And whether it was the end of one career and the renewal of another, Yuri believed that everything they'd been through together, even this heartache and pain… It was all worth it.

Viktor led the way to the car, Yuri following close behind. With each step he took, his journey with the Russian felt like it was drawing to a close. Rather than fall apart at the prospect of losing his beloved coach, Yuri steeled his resolve. If last night was going to be nothing more than a memory of his time with the great Viktor Nikiforov, then the only thing left to do was for Yuri to give this incredible story a proper ending…


	2. Chapter 2 - Dilemmas

The Grand Prix was finally over, and, against his better judgement, Yuri agreed to have a celebratory dinner with his fellow skaters…

Yuri was still riding the high of his second place victory. It wasn't the gold medal, but it was the first time he'd ever made it on the podium. He was proud of himself, but, more to the point, Viktor was proud of him. In truth, part of Yuri was happy he hadn't taken the gold. If he had, he wouldn't have had the courage to ask Viktor to coach him for another season. As relieved as he was that the Russian said yes, this brought about a slew of logistical dilemmas.

Viktor was returning the ice _and_ going to coach Yuri. Where would they train? Viktor's coach was in Russia. Did that mean Yuri would be spending his off season training there? He didn't know the language, and the only people he knew there were Viktor and Yurio. Perhaps you could say he knew Viktor's coach, Yakov, but even after their shared hug at the Rostelecom Cup, Yuri felt like that might be a bit of a stretch… Truth be told, Yuri had gotten used to being home and with his family again. Was he ready to give that up? His gut told him yes (he was willing to follow Viktor almost anywhere), but he'd be lying if he said it would be easy to say goodbye to his loved ones. Yuri's thoughts were plagued by all these questions, and though he was surrounded by excitement and energy, he couldn't escape his suffocating fear and uncertainty.

"Yuri?"

Viktor said his name like a question, the last syllable ending on a high note. The Russian had been knocking back glasses of champagne like water, and the playful edge to his voice was red flag number one. Viktor was drunk, and his attention was now turned solely on Yuri…

"What's wrong?" Viktor asked, leaning forward so he could get a better look at Yuri's face. "You've barely said a word."

"I'm just tired," he replied, fixing his glasses and forcing himself smile.

"After your performance today, I'm not surprised," Christophe said with a wink, refilling his glass and accidently spilling a bit of champagne on the table. "It was incredible."

Viktor threw his arms around Yuri's neck pulling him close. "I'm so proud of him!" he practically squealed, drawing several gazes and soft laughter from the surrounding tables.

Yurio sucked his teeth in irritation, grabbing his untouched glass of champagne and downing the entire contents. "I win gold and all anyone talks about is stupid Yuri!"

"I'm proud of you, too," Viktor said with a wide grin, his arms still wrapped awkwardly around Yuri. Any closer and the Russian would be sitting in his lap.

"As am I," Otabek added, clearing his throat quietly as he refilled Yurio's glass. "It was an unforgettable performance. The way you moved on the ice was…" he cleared his throat again. "I look forward to seeing you perform again.'"

There was formal note to Otabek's words; his praise oddly cold and detached. Despite this, Yurio had turned the brightest shade of crimson Yuri had ever seen. The young Russian sort… sank into his seat, grabbing his newly filled glass and mumbling a quiet thank you before taking a long sip.

"Mm, I think there's something between those two," Viktor whispered, his mouth so close to Yuri's ear, the warmth of his breath ruffled the wisps of hair at his nape.

Yuri shot up from his chair, nearly sending the heavy piece of furniture clattering to the floor. "I… I need to use the restroom," he announced.

Viktor was still awkwardly wrapped around him, so Yuri had to sort of… shimmy his way out of the male's embrace. The Russian was pouting, muttering words of endearment as Yuri struggled to escape. The second he was free, Yuri bolted to the back of the restaurant, disappearing behind the bathroom door. Once he was alone, he blew out the breath he'd been holding. The only thing more distracting than his thoughts about the future were his memories of last night. And with Viktor so close and whispering sweetly in his ear, how could he _not_ think about their wanton night together?

Yuri walked to the last stall, stepping inside and putting the top of the toilet down so he could sit on it. He dropped onto the porcelain lid, slumping forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Bowing his head, he ran both hands through his hair, taking solace in the silence around him. He needed a minute to calm himself. Being close to Viktor had always been a challenge for Yuri, but with the memory of… certain events clouding his head, just the scent of the other's cologne had Yuri's mind and body reacting in all manner of new and distracting ways.

He and Viktor had… done things. Things Yuri wanted to do again. The Free Skate was over and their decisions were made. Did that mean they'd be able to do those kinds of things again? Yuri was too terrified to ask, but every time Viktor invaded his personal space, all he could think about was the way Viktor had looked while riding him. The Russian had no shame; simply refusing to deny himself the pleasures of the flesh. If only Yuri could be more… assertive; more demanding in his passion.

"Yuri!"

Viktor burst into the stall Yuri was in, sending the dark-haired male leaping up and onto the toilet seat. "Viktor! What are you doing?!"

"You've been gone for so long," he whimpered, his bright blue eyes glittering with unshed tears and his bottom lip trembling precariously. "I was worried."

"I… I-I could've been using the bathroom," he gasped, pressing his back to the wall as Viktor squeezed inside the small space.

"But you're not," Viktor replied, closing the stall door and locking it behind him. "And we both know that's not why you left the table. What's wrong? Is it because you didn't get the gold? We still have next season," he said, trying to sound encouraging despite the slightest slurring of his words, "and I'll be with you every step to the way," he added, slowly closing the small space between them.

"Th-that's not it," Yuri stammered, the bottoms of his shoes slipping and sliding on the lid of the toilet as he clamored to keep his footing.

"Then what is it?" Viktor pleaded, wobbling on his feet as he inched ever closer. "I'm your coach, you can tell me."

Yuri shook his head, flinching when Viktor wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him in for a sudden hug. There was no hiding it now… The moment Viktor's cheek pressed against Yuri's toned belly, the truth of his sudden departure was made clear.

Yuri stared down at Viktor, trying to gauge the Russian's reaction to his very obvious, very prominent arousal. The seconds ticked by, Yuri's heart trying to figure out whether it wanted to beat or not. When he couldn't take the suspense any longer, Yuri started to explain the utterly embarrassing situation to Viktor, but before he could get two words out, the Russian started undoing his pants.

"V-Viktor, stop! What are you doing?" Yuri squeaked, instinctively pushing the other's hands away.

The Russian was undeterred, slapping Yuri's hands out of the way. "I'm going to take care of this for you," he replied matter-of-factly, his blue eyes narrowing with a kind of focus that made Yuri's knees tremble. "You'll feel better and then we can go back to dinner."

"H-here? Now?!" Yuri said in a loud whisper, peeking over the top of the stall to see if they were still alone. "Someone might come in!"

"Then stop being so loud," Viktor retorted, yanking Yuri's pants and underwear down in one pull.

"Viktor, st—!"

Warm lips wrapped around the tip of Yuri's dick, silencing his protests almost immediately. He grabbed the top of the stall walls, fighting to hold himself up as Viktor licked up and down his length, one delicate hand stroking him leisurely. Soon the Russian took him deeper into his mouth, the muffled gagging sounds filling the silence and seeming to echo through the small space. Yuri pried a hand from the stall, entwining his fingers with Viktor's soft, silver locks. He couldn't help but watch; the male's head lazily bobbing up and down on his cock.

"I-I'm close…" Yuri whispered, wondering where he was supposed to cum. He knew exactly where he _wanted_ to empty his seed, but he wasn't sure if Viktor would be willing to swallow. Unfortunately for the Russian, once the image was in his head, Yuri couldn't stop thinking about it. Tear-filled blue eyes stared up at him, and before he realized what he was doing, Yuri was holding Viktor's head with both hands, thrusting his hips forward and fucking the back of the male's throat without regard or thought towards the other's comfort. The palms of Viktor's hands pushed against Yuri's thighs, but even the Russian's strangled chokes weren't enough to stop Yuri from raping his exquisite mouth. Moan after moan tumbled from Yuri's lips, the sound so deep and guttural it didn't sound like him at all.

"I'm cumming," Yuri gasped, forcing Viktor to still so he could pump his seed down the male's spasming throat. "Take it," he whispered. "Swallow every drop…"

He didn't release Viktor until he was done, falling back against the wall as he fought to catch his breath. His cock slid out of the Russian's mouth with a wet pop, the silver-haired male gasping and coughing as he fought to catch his breath.

"Viktor!" Yuri exclaimed, his guilt crashing into him all at once. He was still a bit dizzy, but he managed to tug his pants back up and ease himself down to the floor. "I-I'm sorry! I got carried away. I shouldn't have done that!"

The Russian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling weakly down at Yuri. His striking blue gaze was still watering, fresh tear tracks visible against his pale skin.

"It was your first time," he replied breathlessly, fixing his hair and dabbing at the corners of his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. "And it's my fault for encouraging you so."

Yuri cupped Viktor's tear-stained cheeks, pressing a fierce kiss to the male's lips. He felt braver; emboldened. "I want to make love to you," he said in a rush. "I… I want to feel you in my arms again."

It was a grand and heartfelt gesture, so when Viktor laughed, it threw Yuri off for a moment. "Oh, my dear Yuri," the Russian grinned, pulling the raven-haired male in for a hug. "It's my turn to hold you," he whispered into his ear.

Yuri blinked in confusion, pushing away and shaking his head as if he didn't quite understand the meaning behind Viktor's words. The Russian's smile turn wicked, a sliver of foreboding coiling in the pit of Yuri's belly.

"You don't have to skate tomorrow," Viktor said, working to do up Yuri's pants once more. "Which means, I finally get to claim you properly…"


End file.
